by Paula Quinn
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Wise.”
“Does he love her then?”
De Atre shook his head. “No. He is burdened with the task of keeping eyes on her. She’s pleasing to the eye and Lord Devon wants to ensure that she gives birth to no more bastards while she’s here.” He set a piece of cheese in the bottom left corner and crooked his mouth into a nakedly male grin. “Not that I wouldn’t like to get her fat with my own. She’s a cold bitch, but I’m sure I could pull a few screams out of her. Repeat a word of that to Gates and I’ll have your balls.”
He winked at Colin, who fought the urge to smash the lewd lieutenant’s head against the table and use his teeth for his next move.
Colin offered him a friendly smile instead. “It seems to me that more of yer attention is paid to her than to the army we will soon face in England. Thankfully, ye’ll have William’s navy at yer back if ye’re caught off guard.”
De Atre looked up at him from the game he’d just lost and sneered. “I won’t need them. Come outside and I’ll finish showing you.”
Colin stood from his chair and swept his arm out before him. “After ye, Lieutenant.”
Chapter Four
Sunlight puddled through the sparse trees and fell on the small bench in St. Petroc’s churchyard, where Gillian sat with her son on her lap. With her lips pressed to Edmund’s downy head, she read to him from Gildas’s De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae of Aurelius Ambrosius, who fought against the invading Saxons. Her voice blended with the clank of wooden swords coming from across the yard and the gulls screeching over the crashing surf beyond the cliffs. She lifted her head and looked to where the new mercenary practiced his swordplay with Lieutenant de Atre while the others looked on blandly. A cool breeze wafted through the centuries-old cemetery, lifting her hair from her face and refreshing her as she returned to her book and softly recited Gildas’s accolades for a hero long dead. Men like Aurelius Ambrosius no longer existed, but she didn’t allow that to stop her from believing that Edmund could someday be a good and honorable man, just like him. Of course, it would help if he were being raised with the correct guidance from a good father. But if it was up to her to act as both parents, then she would.
She looked toward the lists again when she heard de Atre call out another challenge to his opponent. She didn’t hear what it was, but set her gaze to the cliffs beyond, where the crashing waves brought a smile to her face and inspired a new melody she would put to her lute later. After Edmund, her lute was the second thing she loved most at Dartmouth. She’d had it since she was a child, when she preferred practicing over more practical things like sewing and manners. She’d learned to play quickly, for everything stirred her; the twinkling of a certain star amid the rest, the gentle music of rustling leaves just before the violence of a storm. She composed melodies in her head that always moved her heart. Unlike her two older sisters, she had no use for the disingenuous structure of her noble life, with all its grand motions and meaningless encounters at this ball or that. She preferred to dream of the profound and thought she’d found it in Reggie Blount, the son of one of her father’s tenants. He wasn’t a peer, but Gillian thought him infinitely more exciting than the sons of barons and earls.
When she learned she was carrying Reggie’s child, she wept for three days before she asked herself, What is more miraculous than a babe growing in her belly? Reggie didn’t agree about it being a miracle. He called it a curse and then dashed her dreams to pieces. Oh, she mended, even after her father tossed her out. But none of it mattered when Edmund was placed in her arms. She had a son and in an instant, he gave her life a new meaning and filled her heart with joy.
She longed to give him a better, more vital life than this one, surrounded by tombstones and walls, with no men of dignity from which to learn.
But she didn’t need them. She didn’t need a husband or a father for her son. She’d given up those girlish dreams long ago. She would be whatever Edmund needed. She would do whatever she must to keep him safe, whatever it took to keep him with her. She didn’t need a hero, but she did need help… and she needed Prince William to make haste and get here.
“Mummy, I want to play with Colin.”
She stroked her son’s head and let her eyes drift to Colin Campbell again, now fighting two more soldiers.
“Perhaps later, my darling.”
She knew much about the art of battle, for while Geoffrey didn’t permit her to touch a weapon, Captain Gates did not deny her private lessons in the abandoned church. She knew how a sword should be handled for the best outcome. She surveyed the stranger. He appeared quite at ease while wielding his heavy, carved blade, though he fought mostly in defense against his three opponents. He was curious, that one, shifting from shadows to light with a slant of his lips. In Geoffrey’s solar, his steady gaze had reminded her of a wolf, the hungry kind that came silently in the dark and sank its teeth into its victim’s throat. When he played his game with Edmund though, she’d seen something else entirely, something less guarded. Both were equally alluring.
A swath of dark blue blocked her vision. She blinked up at Captain Gates and realized she had stopped reading.
“Gillian, put whatever you are entertaining away. No good can come of it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
His broad shoulders straightened beneath his military coat, as if resolving himself to continue. “I mean Mr. Campbell. I see the way he draws your eye. There is nothing he can offer you without your cousin’s consent, and you will not get it. Consider your son and the chance that you might only end up incurring your father’s wrath once again.”
Gillian set Edmund on the bench and rose to her feet. She did not raise her voice or speak in a caustic tone. She was too hurt and insulted to feel angry. Many cold, unfeeling things were spoken to her here, but never before by her captain. “Captain, my every thought, word, and action is in consideration of my son.” She took a step closer to him and looked up into his gray-blue eyes. “And if you are going to suggest that I would cast his well-being aside for a hired henchman, please do not do so in front of him.”
He looked away, down at his boots. “My apologies.”
“Do you truly think so little of me?” she asked him, the dread of it saturating her voice. He was her only friend here in this dreary dungeon. He cared for her. He defended her when he could, but how long could any man listen to her cousin’s vile words against her without coming to believe them? Oh, she couldn’t bear the thought of George thinking poorly of her, turning his back on her, as the other men in her life had done. Was her captain capable of betraying her? Was that why she had never told him about her secret correspondence with Prince William? “Has Geoffrey’s poison infected you as well, old friend?”
“No, never,” he hastened to assure her, scowling fiercely at the unshed tears blurring her vision. “I worry over you and the boy. You mean much to me.”
Aye, he did worry over her, and with good reason, with men like de Atre snapping at her heels—directly behind her cousin. She shouldn’t doubt him. Not George.
Letting go of the matter, she reached for Edmund’s hand and then looked down when he didn’t take it. “Edmund?” Her eyes searched the churchyard, but did not see him. She turned toward the rocky bluff and her heart seized with terror. “Edmund!” she screamed and took off running.
“Edmund, come here!” The captain’s commanding tone spun her on her heel to see her son running toward the lists. She nearly fell unconscious with relief, but then she saw the danger in where he was headed. He was either too far away to hear the captain’s call, or he simply refused to obey it. Gillian wasn’t about to wait to find out which and sprinted after him. If the men didn’t see him coming… and one of them swung his weapon…
Colin Campbell reached him first. Gillian didn’t know how he managed it, but one instant he was fending off four attackers, and the next, they were picking up their swords from the ground and tur
ning to watch him run. Scooping the child up in his arms, Colin carried him a safe distance away.
George reached them the same time Gillian did—his face, equally pale. “Boy, you know better than to walk among the men while they’re practicing!”
Gillian offered the mercenary a brief but grateful smile while she took her son from his arms. “Edmund, my heart, what have I told you about minding me and Captain Gates?”
“I wanted to play Crosses and Bread with Colin, Mummy.”
She caught the stranger’s slight smile at Edmund’s incorrect name of his game. He looked quite harmless when he smiled.
“Games!” George looked heavenward, then cast her a harder look than she was sure he had intended. “Now I understand why your cousin frowns upon them.”
Gillian turned to him with a cool look of her own. “It has nothing to do with concern for Edmund. Geoffrey is miserable because his father gave him this small coastal fort instead of Powderham Castle. He wants everyone around him to suffer the same.”
“Whatever the reason, we will discuss these games at length later.” George sighed as if he knew that arguing the point with her was useless. “I’m accompanying Devon to Kingswear Castle to have word with Captain Cavenaugh.”
“Is something amiss?” Mr. Campbell asked rather casually while keeping his eyes averted from hers.
Gillian looked away, unaware that she’d been staring.
“No.” George took a moment to hold up his hand to Geoffrey when he spotted him exiting the castle pulling on his riding gloves. “Kingswear is our sister castle and guards the estuary on the opposite bank. We visit occasionally to make certain the garrison and guns are in working order. We should not be absent too long. It is not far.” He barked out an order to Lieutenant de Atre to guard her and Edmund while he was away, then bid her and Mr. Campbell a brief farewell and left to join her cousin.
“Well, come along then,” de Atre demanded, motioning her forward. “I’ll escort you to your chambers.”
Not if she had anything to say about it. She didn’t like the lieutenant or the way he looked at her and Edmund when they were alone, like she was the food his master kept from him while he starved—and Edmund stood in his way of eating her alive. He never dared touch her for fear of what George would do to him, but when her guardian was away, the lieutenant grew bolder. “I would prefer to remain outdoors.”
“You look flushed,” de Atre purred at her. “One as fair as you could easily burn beneath the sun.”
He reached for her but she stepped back, avoiding his touch. “Contrary to what you believe, Lieutenant, I am capable of thinking for myself, and I wish to remain outdoors.”
She caught the slant of his abashed gaze in Mr. Campbell’s direction and clenched her jaw. He’d obviously boasted of his command over all, including her, to the stranger. Would he try to drag her off if she continued to refuse him? If he laid a hand on her she swore to herself she would cut off his fingers. She would hate for Edmund to witness such a thing.
“You’ll do as—”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Campbell gracefully interrupted, drawing Gillian’s gaze back to him, “the lady would enjoy a show of yer skill against me, Lieutenant.”
De Atre sized him up with a scowl and then wiped his sweaty brow. “My skill against you has already been proven this day.”
“Aye, but not with an audience of one so fair.” The mercenary’s glance to her was brief and a bit awkward for one so seemingly confident. Whatever his background, he carried himself with the kind of conviction one would see on a conqueror. If he wore enough weapons to win the battle on his own, then surely he knew how to use them. Gillian couldn’t help but find it rather charming that a man like him would lose his composure because of her.
Turning back to de Atre, the crook of his mouth returned. “Mayhap ye are too weary from our earlier practice…”
“Nonsense!” de Atre charged. Turning to look at her, he seemed to consider if watching his victory might be just what she needed to offer herself up to him on a golden platter. He turned his yellow grin on her and drew his waster with an artful swoosh. “To the lists, then, Scot.”
Before following him, Mr. Campbell fit his finger under Edmund’s chin to hold his attention. In the sun, his eyes shone like emeralds frosted in gold. “I know many games to teach ye. But I will not play them with ye if ye don’t mind what yer mother and Captain Gates tells ye. Agreed?” He waited until Edmund promised, and then slipped his gaze to hers for a moment before he turned away.
Gillian watched him go, wondering why he would help her, and how a man could look as appealing from the back as he did from the front. His form resonated with confidence… a hint of arrogance in his leisurely pace. What sort of mercenary carried himself with such self-authority? None that she knew of among her cousin’s legion of men. Her gaze stretched across his shoulders, lingered over the width of his back, then settled on the snug fit of his breeches over his—
“Mummy?”
She breathed and blushed to her roots. “Aye, Edmund?” She looked down at her babe’s tender face, his thumb hovering before his lips, and she forgot all else.
“I will mind what you and Captain Gates tells me.”
Her heart melted with love for him and it radiated from her smile. “Then you shall learn Mr. Campbell’s games.”
He gave her an enthusiastic nod and popped his thumb back into his mouth as she returned to the bench and they sat down.
So, the Highlander was pleasing to look at. She certainly wouldn’t lose her wits over it. She didn’t need any more protection than what she already had with George, and surely it was only a matter of time before Campbell learned her place here and ceased his aid. Still, none of the other men had ever shown any interest in Edmund. Captain Gates cared for him, but he was a soldier who had never learned how to interact with a babe. He’d never offered to teach Edmund anything at all, let alone a game. There were no other children here. She was her son’s only playmate and it often broke her heart. It was why, even knowing Geoffrey and George would disapprove, she would consider finding a way for Edmund to spend time with Mr. Campbell.
“Will you teach me to play your Naughts and Crosses, darling?”
He looked up at her from eyes as wide as the heavens and nodded against her breast. She would do anything for him, risk everything to make him happy, and kill anyone who tried to hurt him. “Would you like me to continue reading to you?”
He shook his head. “I want to watch.”
She let her gaze follow his to the lists and to the Highlander fending off de Atre’s blows as they rained down upon him. He swung a few times, hard, resounding responses, wielded with authority and rattling the lieutenant in his boots. All too soon though, he returned to the defensive position, backing up and ducking—albeit with agility as elusive as the wind. Curious. He had rendered his previous opponents harmless in the space of two breaths in order to get to Edmund. Was he letting Lieutenant de Atre beat him for her sake?
Stop this madness! She scolded herself. She wouldn’t allow a man, a stranger to muddle her good senses. George believed the mercenary was withholding his skills. She agreed. But why would he? He spoke of fighting in the King’s Life Guard. She wondered what he knew about the king that might be valuable to William. Speaking to him again could be beneficial to her and Edmund’s escape from this place.
She blinked and felt the breath catch in her chest when he set his eyes upon her across the small field. Well, in truth, it was Edmund who’d caught his attention and softened his features. Gillian looked down to find her son leaning comfortably against her, still sucking his thumb and waving with his free hand.
Edmund liked him. Should she let him grow closer to the stranger, and to what end? They’d never see him again after William took the throne. Would that be worse for Edmund? Could she keep her thoughts off him while she watched him play with her son? She didn’t realize she’d gone back to staring at him until she gasped at de Atre’s woo
den sword striking him in the temple. She grew angry when the lieutenant declared him dead. Mr. Campbell didn’t seem to care much; in fact, he looked quite pleased with himself when his victorious opponent raised his weapon and cheered for himself.
Expelling a withering sigh, Gillian girded herself up for the battle when de Atre pranced toward her. It would be even harder to defy him now.
“Colin!” her son slipped from her lap and ran to him before Gillian could stop him, or before de Atre had a moment to open his mouth to boast or demand. “Are you hawrt?”
Gillian could see clearly that Mr. Campbell was in fact bleeding slightly where de Atre’s wooden sword had met his flesh.
“ ’Tis nothing,” the mercenary promised, then rubbed his flat belly. “I’m hungry and was distracted.”
“Colin, will you teach me how to fight?”
Gillian reached for her son’s hand while the mercenary tensed his limbs. It was the same reaction all the men here had whenever Edmund asked them to teach him something. Run. Escape having to waste time with a babe. “Come, Edmund—” She took hold of him to soften the blow of another refusal. “Leave Mr. Campbell to his duties now. He has—”
“Fight against what?” De Atre angled his head slightly over his shoulder and spat. “Boy’s too scrawny to fight off my smallest finger.”
Gillian cast the lieutenant a look that said if she had the strength of a man she would haul him up and toss him over the side of the cliffs. Oh God, she hated thinking of Edmund helpless should anything ever befall her. She was teaching him to play the lute and to read, and compassion, but who would ever teach him to wield a sword?
“I’ll teach ye how to defend yerself,” the stranger said as if she’d voiced her fear aloud. She looked up at him and then realized that he was speaking to Edmund. She felt an unfamiliar, unwanted stirring in her belly and stomped it out before it went any further.
“You won’t hurt him?” she asked, not trusting this man or any other near her son with a weapon. But someone had to teach him.